


Tender

by ItinerantAvthor



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married porn, PWP, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItinerantAvthor/pseuds/ItinerantAvthor
Summary: When Jim comes back to life, Spock is there to care for him. They both need a little reassurance that Jim is back for good.





	Tender

**Author's Note:**

> It's ya girl, back at it again with the emotional porn. I wrote this months ago and just haven't posted it. Yikes. As always, please feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudos if you like this :) My tumblr is bllbabaggins if you want to jump over and cry with me about what a beautiful soulmate couple Spirk is :')

Spock watched as McCoy fluttered around the biobed. He was numb and exhausted; Leonard had made him shower and change into his Starfleet uniform to meet with the Admiralty earlier that day, though the Vulcan would have stumbled into their offices wearing the same dirtied Science blues he’d been wearing when they captured Khan. 

Jim’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheek. Spock leaned in, hungry for signs of life. The Doctor grunted and waved a scanner over the Captain’s face. Then -

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” he muttered as Jim woke suddenly, violently. “You were barely dead.”

Spock leaned back, relief flooding his body. He felt heavy, weak. He heard McCoy and Jim speak, faintly, and pulled himself together. He had to be strong, now, for his t’hy’la. He had to be strong for his husband.

“It wasn’t just me,” Leonard was saying, and he threw a significant glance over his shoulder at Spock. The Vulcan stepped forward, hat under his arm, and drank in the sight of his Captain, his lover, on the bed. He looked so weak, so frail, but he was there, he was alive. Every time he’d closed his eyes the past two weeks, he’d seen Jim die again and again, separated by thick glass, eyes red, skin pale and ruddy, blood and saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth.

“You saved my life,” Jim croaked.

“Uhura and I had something to do with it too, you know,” McCoy mumbled under his breath.

Spock tried to find words, but his throat closed up and his side ached with the amount of emotion he held back.

“You saved the lives of many people, Jim,” he said quietly.

“Just - thank you,” the Captain said, already slipping back into sleep.

That night Spock dreamt not of Jim dying but of their bodies intertwined, sweat-slicked and glistening in the cabin’s low light, moving slowly and precisely, knowing exactly how to give each other pleasure.

He visited every day, bringing their chess set to distract Jim from the plethora of painful tests Starfleet doctors administered. Uhura came by too, and the rest of the bridge crew; but Spock was the constant presence at Jim’s side, watching him carefully for signs of fatigue or stress or homicidal mania.

Ten days later, the hospital cleared Jim into Spock’s custody, with the firm warning from Leonard that if the Captain was left alone for even a moment, Hell would rain down on his head. Spock blinked, unconcerned. Jim would be glad at the end of his babysitting trial to be free of his Vulcan.

“Careful, Captain,” he murmured, an arm around Jim’s waist as he maneuvered them into a small apartment overlooking the Bay. Spock had settled here almost a month ago, one of HQ’s tiniest and least-wanted flats, for the simple reason that it was a two-minute walk to Jim.

Jim chuckled weakly at his concern, but eased his way onto the soft mattress in their little master bedroom. Spock could feel the ribs expand and contract with every breath underneath his fingertips.

“Thank you, Spock,” he said, wincing as he laid down.

The First Officer quickly and efficiently changed his husband into sweatpants and a T-shirt, his favored sleeping wear, and helped him settle under the covers.

“Doctor McCoy recommended that you eat soft foods for the first five days at home. There is a Pho restaurant approximately two point one blocks away. Would you like some?”

“Mm,” Jim grunted, the effort to speak nearly overwhelming. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

When he returned, Spock helped Jim sit up in bed and carefully fed him spoonfuls of Pho. At first the Captain protested being treated like a child, but it took much too much energy to feed himself. Grumblingly, Jim allowed his t’hy’la to help.

Thoroughly exhausted, Jim lay down after eating, quick to fall asleep. Spock watched him for a few moments, stroking his hair and worrying over the pale hue of his skin. He collected their dishes and walked to the kitchen, meticulous in clearing the mess and putting everything in its rightful place. He meditated for forty point six minutes in the living room. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. He dusted the windows and replied to some emails.

“What are you doing up right now?” Uhura demanded when he called her about her request for more linguists on board the Enterprise.

He lifted a brow. “What are you?” he countered.

“I’m at my parents’ home in London right now. What’s your excuse?”

Spock hesitated. “I simply wished to get work done while Jim is sleeping.”

“No offense, Spock, but even Vulcans need sleep,” Uhura said gently. “This isn’t urgent business and you know it.”

He hung up, chagrined at her words. It was 2342, and he really should be resting. Still, he recognized that an illogical part of his brain yet believed Jim to be dead, and he didn’t want to walk into an empty bedroom and a crushed heart.

Bracing himself, Spock squared his shoulders and made his way to the bedroom. He stood in the doorway for a moment, hesitant, and peered inside. His Vulcan eyesight, so much better than a Human’s, found Jim’s prone form under the covers, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Spock shut his eyes for a moment, emotion swelling in his throat. He closed the door behind him and commanded the lights to 15%. Slipping under the covers, he lay on his side to watch Jim sleep.

Fifty-six minutes later, Jim’s brow furrowed and his breathing became shallower. His eyes fluttered open. Spock lay a hand on his cheek, anxiety overpowering him.

“Hi,” Jim said, placing his hand atop Spock’s.

Worry drained from him, leaving an empty feeling behind.

“Hello,” he returned. Spock wanted to say more, wanted to bring Jim close to him in a crushing embrace, wanted to cry into his husband’s chest like he used to do with his mother as a child. But he had to be strong.

“I can feel your anxiety, Spock,” Jim said, his voice gravelly and slurred with sleep. He pressed his lips to the Vulcan’s palm.

Spock’s mouth went dry. “I - I simply…” he floundered.

“I know, sweetheart,” Jim said quietly. He shuffled forward, closer to Spock, until their noses touched and their knees knocked under the covers. “Me too.”

They didn’t speak for awhile, content to be in each others’ presence. After awhile, Jim slid his hand down Spock’s side, resting over his heart.

“Spock,” he whispered, voice catching.

The Vulcan’s eyes opened. He hadn’t even realized they had closed. Jim was watching him, something desperate in his eyes. Spock could feel it through their bond; the helplessness, the desire, the deep yearning to be known.

“Yes,” he whispered back.

Ever so gently, Spock pushed his t’hy’la’s shoulder until Jim lay on his back. He knelt over Jim, mindful of his weak and battered body. He leaned down for a kiss, meeting Jim’s Pho-tasting lips so softly. Again he kissed him, and again, feather-light and sweet, melting when Jim’s tongue slipped into his mouth and caressed his own.

Jim cupped Spock’s cheek with one hand. He looked deeply into his Vulcan’s eyes, the deepest and warmest brown he’d ever known.

“Make love to me?” he asked, searching Spock’s face.

Spock cradled Jim’s hand in both of his and kissed every finger tip, down to his palm, his wrist. “Are you certain?” he whispered, watching Jim for any hesitation. “You are still healing -”

“I need you,” Jim said, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Spock, honey, I need you.”

“As I need you,” Spock assured him, leaning down for another kiss, deeper and hungrier. With his thumbs he wiped Jim’s tears away. His face dried and his worries comforted, Jim lay his head back against the pillow as his t’hy’la gently placed a hand over his cheekbones and temple, melding them lightly so Spock could feel if Jim experienced discomfort or pain. As the meld washed over him, Jim felt lighter, now bearing the weight of his death-and-resurrection with someone else.

Satisfied with his husband’s comfort, Spock sat up, rucking Jim’s shirt to his armpits. Gently, they peeled the old Academy tee away, and Spock tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. He lay Jim down again carefully and slowly moved his hands over Jim’s exposed skin. He was thin, far too thin in Spock’s opinion. Fingers brushed over stark ridges of ribs where comfortable chub used to be.

“Are you cold?” Spock whispered as Jim shivered. Jim shook his head, but the Vulcan commanded the computer to add three degrees Celsius to the room’s temperature.

“Worrisome Vulcan,” Jim teased.

Spock’s eyes softened but he did not stop his hands’ journey over Jim’s torso. His fingers ran over Jim’s nipples, pert and pink and hairless, so unlike Spock’s; down his abdomen, where his diaphragm expanded and contracted with each breath, empirical evidence that Jim was alive. Spock traced his sides back up to his collarbone and shoulders, then down Jim’s thick arms all the way to his fingertips.

“Spock,” Jim begged, blue eyes still startlingly bright in the low light of the room. The Vulcan could feel Jim’s anxiety, his need through their bond, and leaned down to capture Jim’s lips in a kiss, intertwining their fingers in a naughty Vulcan display of affection. Spock’s mouth moved to Jim’s chin, his jaw, down his neck, slow and sweet and just how Jim liked it.

“Spock,” Jim sighed, squeezing his fingers as the Vulcan placed his lips over Jim’s left nipple. His tongue laved over the bud, and he felt rather than heard Jim exhale shakily as he lavished Jim’s chest. He moved to the other one, kissing and suckling at the nipple, enjoying Jim’s breathy moans as Spock played with the sensitive buds. The Vulcan released his husband’s hands, anchoring them firmly on Jim’s sides.

“I have missed you,” Spock admitted quietly as he kissed down Jim’s abdomen. He could feel muscles tighten beneath his lips. “I have missed your body in my arms. I thought I would never see you again, t’hy’la.”

“I know,” Jim breathed, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “I was so scared, Spock. I felt it in our bond, we were both so - so scared. But we’re here now, I’m here. You’re here. Spock.”

Spock kissed Jim’s hip, savoring the feel of the soft hairs under his lips. He nuzzled the happy trail under Jim’s belly button, smelling him and soaking in the warmth of his body.

“Ashayam,” Spock mumbled, looking up at Jim. He found his husband’s eyes greedily taking him in, watching his every move with quick, shallow breaths. “May I remove your pants?” he asked, curling his fingertips under the waistband of Jim’s sweats.

“Baby, please,” Jim moaned. He tried to lift his hips to help Spock take the offending article of clothing off, but was too weak to hold himself up. Spock gently lifted him with his superior Vulcan strength, splaying one hand across Jim’s lower back as he tugged the pants off of Jim’s hips. He hadn’t put underwear on when he changed Jim into sleeping clothes, so Jim’s cock, half hard already, bobbed in the air when the pants were down to his thighs.

To Jim’s utter frustration, Spock insisted on removing the pants all the way, tossing them to the floor just as carelessly as he had the shirt. Now Jim lay fully naked against the sheets, staring up at his still-dressed husband.

Jim ran a hand down Spock’s thigh and murmured, “Take these off, sweetheart.” Spock was quick to comply, never once looking away from Jim’s beautiful body as he removed his own clothing. Once he too was naked, Spock simply straddled Jim’s legs, taking him in and sweeping his hands up and down the living, warm, breathing body beneath him.

Chuckling, Jim grinned up at him. “Are you going to do something or just keep looking at me all night?” he asked.

Somber, Spock leaned down and kissed Jim again. “You are so beautiful, t’hy’la,” he breathed when he pulled away. Before Jim could answer, he pressed another kiss to his lips, and another, and felt Jim’s hands caress his sides.

He rested his forehead against Jim’s, cradling his face in both hands. “Taluhk nash veh k’dular,” he whispered, closing his eyes and feeling puffs of warm air from Jim’s mouth across his chin.

“Ashaya,” Jim whispered back, kissing him firmly. “Please.”

“How?” Spock asked, pulling back ever so slightly.

“In me,” Jim answered, watching Spock’s every move.

Hesitant, Spock said, “Jim -”

“Sanoi, t’nash-veh ashaya,” Jim murmured against his lips.

Spock melted when Jim spoke Vulcan. He had learned so painstakingly over their years in space, taking the time to correct his accent and enunciate clearly. A wave of love threatened to overwhelm him.

Jim felt it too through their bond. He squeezed Spock’s hip with one hand and brought the other to his face, placing his fingers over the Vulcan’s meld points though he himself could not meld them together.

“T’nash veh aikum heh yel,” Jim said, reciting a piece of pre-Surakian erotic poetry that never failed to bring Spock to his knees.

“Yes,” the Vulcan moaned, covering Jim’s hand on his face with his own.

Caught up as he was in the heat of the moment, Spock still carefully moved to be between his lover’s legs, then gently spread them even further. He leaned to the end table for lube, applying it to one finger and pressing it to Jim’s entrance.

“Please,” Jim breathed as Spock rubbed his rim.

Watching his face for any discomfort or pain, Spock slowly slid into his husband’s hole until the first finger was in to the knuckle.

“I need you, Spock,” Jim said, gripping his forearm. “Please, more.”

Spock pulled out and applied more lube, then carefully slid two fingers in. It had been so long since they were last together that Spock knew he had to go slow. Encouraged by Jim’s breathy pants and moans, he moved his fingers back and forth, creating a delicious friction and relaxing his husband even further. When he added a third finger, Jim gasped and tightened; it took coaxing and breathing steadily to open him up.

Meanwhile, Spock knew that his husband needed more attention than just what was happening in his entrance. He slid his hand up to cup one of Jim’s pectorals, thumbing at the nipple the way he knew Jim liked. Leaning down, he placed open-mouth kisses at Jim’s navel and hip, so teasingly close to his now-dripping cock.

“Spock, please, please,” Jim begged, drawing his attention away from the Human’s tantalizing body. Spock ran his hands up Jim’s sides.

“I need you,” he panted, leaning up for a kiss. “Please,” he whispered as Spock pulled away.

“Jim, t’hy’la,” Spock murmured. He spread Jim’s legs even further and squirted more lube on his hand, palming his aching cock. Then he lined up with Jim’s entrance, watching him closely.

When he pushed in, Jim closed his eyes and soaked in the pleasure-pain of Spock’s thick cock pressing into him. He cried out when the head popped in, and Spock stopped, alarmed, but Jim simply pressed his hand to his Vulcan’s lower back to encourage him to continue.

Slow and steady, Spock continued to press forward, filling the Human to the brim. He caressed Jim’s face with feather-light fingertips, encouraging him with low praises to his ear.

They lay together for awhile when Spock was fully seated inside, panting and touching each other’s bodies. Spock kissed him on the mouth, gentle but demanding, his tongue caressing Jim’s, and his hips seemed to move of their own volition.

“I love you,” Jim moaned against his lips. “I love you, I love you.”

Spock grunted as his cock slid past his husband’s rim again and again in slow, steady motions. “As I love you,” he murmured. “As I did yesterday, as I do today, as I will tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Jim gasped with pleasure as Spock’s gently rucked up his thigh to get a better angle into his body.

“Jim,” Spock breathed. His hips rolled gently and steadily against Jim’s, and his hands roamed to touch every inch of his t’hy’la’s body.

“God,” Jim groaned, clutching Spock’s back as he found Jim’s prostate. “Yes, yes, again, please, t’hy’la, yes.”

Spock grunted, meeting Jim’ mouth with his own to capture the sweet sounds he made as he nailed his sweet spot again and again. Jim squeezed Spock’s buttocks, urging him on. Spock moved to Jim’s neck, sucking and licking below his ear where Jim was most sensitive.

He was rewarded by Jim arching his back and gasping, impaling himself even deeper on his husband’s cock.

“Oh, oh, don’t stop,” Jim whimpered.

Too busy at Jim’s neck to speak, Spock simply reached between them and took his cock in hand even as he continued to rut into Jim’s ass so sweetly. The elongated moan from Jim told him just how much he appreciated the attention.

“Oh, Spock,” Jim panted. “Oh baby, I need you.”

“You have me,” Spock promised, breathless and dizzy. His right hand came to Jim’s face, and the familiar words hung in the air for a bittersweet moment before they were plunged into a deep meld, one that made the physical world both ultra-real and yet distant. Spock felt everything at once - both fucking and being fucked, Jim’s emotions and blanked out mind, the feel of the jersey sheets under their bodies, even the smell of sweat and sex in the air. Vaguely, he heard Jim’s moans, felt him clutch at his shoulders, then stiffen as he climaxed. He could hear the sweet song of Jim’s soul, and it brought him to his own release.

Extracting them from the meld slowly but surely, Spock took time to make sure his t’hy’la was alright. With come on Jim’s stomach and chest, they lay there for awhile, kissing and touching each other sleepily. Spock eventually got up, much to Jim’s disapproval, but he was determined to clean them up before they went to sleep.

“You’re so responsible,” Jim mumbled as Spock wiped him up with a warm washcloth.

Spock simply smiled and shook his head, slipping under the covers when his task was complete. He took Jim in his arms and kissed him gently.

“T’hy’la,” he breathed when they separated.

“I know, sweetheart,” Jim whispered back, feeling his husband’s anxiety melt away in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Eventually, Spock was lulled to sleep by Jim’s even breaths, knowing that whatever the future may hold, they would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Vulcan translations:
> 
> t'hy'la: friend, brother, lover - someone who is all three, but more than that. A soulmate.
> 
> Ashaya/m: beloved.
> 
> Taluhk nash veh k’dular: I cherish thee.
> 
> Sanoi, t’nash-veh ashaya: Please, my beloved.
> 
> T’nash veh aikum heh yel: You are my sun.


End file.
